Yet again I am tortured by the shit legacy started by Scream. Though Valentine is probably the biggest bowl of tripe yet to squirm out of the neo-slasher teenybopper shit parade, it does signify one thing: the death of plucky teen slasher films. Well, I hope that's what it symbolizes. Urban Legends: Final Cut was one of the biggest disappointments of 2000, critically, financially, and even fan base wise. Yep, not even the brain dead lame-asses in their Tommy Butt-Plugger pants and their Anal-Zombie & Bitch t-shirts wanted to watch this shit. Could it be that these poseur horror fans, the "scary" movie generation have finally lost interest and gone onto their next pathetic little fad? Well, if the Urban Legend sequel didn't seal it, I'm quite sure that Valentine did. What do you expect from the assfuck who insulted us with, surprise surprise, Urban Legend!
The marketing geniuses behind Valentine told us repeatedly that this was a slasher movie for the more "mature" and "grown-up" movie go-ers, siting Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer as "kids' stuff". First of all, that's like the zombies behind Sugar & Spice
saying that Bring It On was for the young fans of the little known "cheerleaders" genre, while their film was hardcore, for the truly "mature" fans! No matter how many times the queefs behind Valentine lie through their teeth to us, it doesn't matter, they're still just forcing another teenybopper poison pill down our throats. Secondly, no matter how hard they tighten their uvulas and grit their teeth trying to stress the words "for adults" when talking about Valentine, I don't know ANY "mature adults" who even know who David Boring-Ass is, especially considering the only things he's done have been on the WB... and not even their targeted audience lacks the self-esteem enough to turn that shit on! Unless I'm about to see XXX gang rape orgy S&M anal ecstasy fuck fests, the coveted words "for adults" should be nowhere NEAR fecal encrusted films like Valentine.
So, anyway, to get this stuff over with, let's start it, shall we? It opens at a 6th grade Valentine's Day dance, where one of the Dating God's many jokes, young Jeremy Melvin, is shot down by every borderline pubescent broad in the place. Don't feel sorry for Jer though, he's a complete dork, guys like him get this shit all the time, and rightfully so! Besides, Jer eventually finds someone with standards low enough to accept his proposal to party: the school fat chick Dorothy. The two wind up locking lips under the bleachers, but when the "cool" guys witness the couple, the mockery and accusations fly. Dorothy, not wanting to damage her already tarnished reputation by being known for making out with a feeb like Jeremy, tells everyone that Jer "attacked" her. So, being the socially minded moral police they are, the bullies drag out Jer, strip him to his powder blue briefs (oh man, this kid HAS to die!) and throw him to the dance floor, where they take turns Riverdancing all over the runt's skinny ass in the usual movie fashion. Yes, just like so many high school stories, from Stand By Me to Angus, the wormy kid gets his ass handed to him by the bigger, slower boys, who are obviously jealous of Jer's superior intellect... right, and Fried Green Tomatoes is better than porn. Whatever.
"13 Years Later", the gang from the dance is all grown up and some guy named Jason refers to himself in the third person context... I hate assholes like that. Somebody get me my beatin' stick! So, wait a minute, instead of a cast in their mid-20s trying to play characters in their late-teens, we get a cast of mid-to-late-20s trying to pull off characters of the same age? This must be that "for adults" theme those pubic lice were trying to pull over on us. So, anyway, the girls that Jer was mercilessly rejected by back in 6th grade, Paige (Denise Richards of Starship Troopers), Lily, Kate and that tubby-bitch-turned-only-slightly-tubby-bitch Dorothy are still good amigos. Unfortunately, the one member of their tampon posse that they haven't been too in touch with the past couple years, Shelly, was killed recently by some psycho in a black trenchcoat and... a cherub mask... yes, those fat faced angel fucks that adorn every piece of Valentine's Day merchandise you look at... THAT is the visage that our killer hopes will strike terror into his victims?! I understand that a mask of human flesh or a hockey mask or a William Shatner mask or shaving your head and hammering a bunch of nails into it or burning your face until it looks like week old pizza are all taken, but a Godz damned CHERUB?! Jeezus Fucking Kryst! This guy makes the modern art twist of the Ghostface mask, the slippery Gorton's fisherman outfit and the poofy feathered hooded jacket of all the other neo-slasher losers look like they were created by Georgio Fucking Armani! Wow, a lot of people with the middle name "Fucking"... must be a European thing.
Alright, now that I've established my hatred for this lame-ass's bad choice of murder-wear, let's make this as painless as possible. The best way to do so? The one paragraph summary. I could probably do this in one sentence, but I'm saving that for something worse... which I know seems impossible when you look at THIS... Anyway, here goes: one-by-one the girls receive threatening Valentines, much like the one Shelly got before she wound up with her throat slit. Except for Lily and Paige, who also get a heart-shaped box of chocolate covered maggots... gives me an idea for next year. So, the ladies don't think much about the morbid greetings and go about their normal stupid 90210 lives. Finally business starts to pick up though, when Lily gets her internal organs perforated by some of "Cupid"'s arrows and dropped 10 stories into a dumpster... where she BELONGS!!! Okay, hold on Anub, you can do this, just throw out the facts, bitch about how bad this all is and you can do this... Alrighty, the next few deaths aren't the girls, as they read like this: Kate's perverted panty wearing neighbor gets beaten to death with a hot clothes iron. Dorothy's would-be boyfriend, the limp-dicked Campbell is next, axed in the back. That eliminates two suspects. Dorothy's snotty maid is then wasted off-screen before the angry cherub offs Campbell's ex-girlfriend. She was here to collect on some money that Campbell scammed out of her, but instead winds up with a jugular full of shattered glass. We next say goodbye to Paige, who gets clipped with a power drill before the tool is tossed into the hot-tub with her, frying her too. San Francisco PD detective Vaughn, whose been covering the whole case, is then be-headed, sadly, off-screen... then again, that "head" floating in Dorothy's lily pad pond looked REALLY fake, so who knows, maybe Vaughn's still alive, especially considering that floating cranium looked NOTHING like him to begin with...
Damn, I wanted to wrap all this up with one paragraph, but I can't stand to let these things run long, so I had to set up a second frame. Alright, let's continue. After this crap, Kate figures that her alcoholic boyfriend Adam (David Boreanaz... oye) really is the killer, like everyone's been telling her lately. So, she beats the shit out him like the pansy he is, then runs around screaming, finding all her dead amigas in the process. Then, she runs into the "real" Valentine killer upstairs and the two take a tumble down a staircase. When the body tries to get up, Adam's there waiting with a gun, then proceeds to blow the fucker away like a monkey in a barrel... or something. Afterwards, Kate sees that he's not the killer when she removes the mask to reveal... Dorothy?! Riiiiiiiiiiiiight, I believe that. So, with the real villain dead, Adam takes Kate into his arms, the two apologize and she falls asleep in his arms. But, of course, that's all a bunch of bullshit, as Adam's nose begins to bleed and he sits there gazing into oblivion like the mental midget he is... oh, I forgot to mention that the Cupid Killer's nose bled every time he killed someone... I know that's an important part of what little story there was, but I cared so little about the whole fiasco that I really felt it didn't heed mentioning until now. So, to make a long story short, Adam was Jeremy this whole time. He was the killer and obviously not Dorothy, who both received a threatening Valentine AND got all pissy when Campbell didn't show up for her party. Again, Adam was the killer nerd the whole time and I didn't give ONE fat rat's shit stained ass the WHOLE time either! I'm just glad the whole uninspired, boring exercise in witless "adult" terror is over. GOODBYE TEENYBOPPER NEO-SLASHER ASSHOLES! I'M GLAD YOU'RE DEAD!
Alright, I could use this space to complain about how cookie-cutter this terrible movie is, but I hope I stressed that enough in the review. So, instead, allow me to bitch about the soundtrack, especially to mister Rob "Full of Hypocritic Bullshit" Zombie. I know a lot of the few people that'll ever read this are probably going to be fans of Rob Zombie, but I ask you hear me out before you begin hurtling angry e-mails my way. Many of the artists on the Valentine soundtrack I can forgive. Many have made similar bad moves before, including personal favorites Static-X, as well as Deftones, Disturbed, Orgy, Filter, and of course, shock rocker sell-outs Marilyn Manson. The problem I have is with Rob Zombie, a self-professed fan of "true horror" and enemy of this kind of cinematic brain cell killer. Zombie has commented many times that he hates the "scary movie" genre, everything from SCREAM on. He instead has said he's a fan of the old skool nightmare candy, especially The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Hell, the guy's even created his own TCM style horror movie, House of 1,000 Corpses, which, as of this review, has yet to find a release company, siting the film's graphic and gory nature as too hard for anyone to market, especially in this day of MPAA heavy tyranny. And yet, despite all these actions, which gore whore genre fans like myself would consider Godliness from a man like Zombie, Robbie's sold people like us out.
His remix for "Superbeast" (a remix which can also be found on Zombie's "American Music To Strip By") is featured on the Valentine soundtrack... why Rob, WHY?! Why would you add your talents, your art, your very name to the kind of film you otherwise detest? Did you lose a bet? Is this part of some community service for beheading children? What's the fucking problem with you Rob Zombie?! If anyone knows Rob Zombie or can contact him in some way, I demand an answer for this violation of fan trust and devotion...
The Moral of the Story: The same fucking moral as 90% of the revenge slasher movies you'll ever be subjected to: don't fuck with the losers in school because one day they'll come back to unleash stabby vengeance on you.
H.O.P.E.L.E.S.S. Rating: 
- Lame slasher with pretty faced lame-asses doing lame things to each other and reciting lame lines for a lame story that result in one thing... uhm, what was that again? Oh yeah, it's LAME. End of story.
If You Liked This Flick, Check Out: Scream or
My Bloody Valentine
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